Bovine Pate

I don't know whose idea it was. We were the Westwood Warriors. They were the Mountain View Toros. It was high school. I worked at a butcher shop every morning boxing meat that had been slaughtered, cut, and frozen from the previous day's carnage.

I think a bunch of us were talking about mascot pranks and our desire to participate. Mountain View was getting a little too big for its britches so we decided we would try to do our part to bring them down a notch or two. Since they were and are the Toros, we needed something to do with cows or bulls. I pointed out to the group that I had access to any cow part they wanted. We originally spoke of a cow hoof – a part I had used earlier in the year in a skit I did for a talentless show. “Anything tastes great when it sits on a Ritz.” That didn't seem like enough.

So I told everyone what a cow head looked like once it had been skinned. With the red meat and connective tissue that made up the muscles in the face, they were always a splendid site.
Our plan was to take the meaty cow head and place it somewhere that would bring out the secret passions of the Toros. We thought it best if sports were involved since A) mascots are most closely associated with sports, and 2) emotions ran quite high during these sporting events. We chose basketball. The most difficult obstacle was how to smuggle a cow head into a basketball court, hold it until the right time, and then somehow deliver the present with the dignity it deserved.

We chose the night and I secured the head. It was beautiful. Our method of bovine execution at the butcher shop was firing squad – er, um I mean a single bullet between the eyes. This victim was no exception and as a bonus he had horns. As an added, added bonus, we found a blue feather which fit perfectly in the cranial hole and completed the picture. After all, we were The Warriors! We were now ready to pull off the caper. My mind is fuzzy on who brought the head in the gym and stored it nonchalantly next to their seat. Then we waited.

During a time out and with both teams still on the court but gathered at their respective benches, a group of us crowded around the head and escorted it out to center court. Nobody could see what it was nor what we were doing. We set it down, took it out of the plastic, inserted the feather, and faced it toward the Mountain View side of the gym. Then we walked away.

I wish we had a picture of this. Meaty, glassy stare with horns and a feather as if massacred by a Warrior. There is one picture and a small write-up in our yearbook which I will post sometime but you can't really get a good feel for the splendor in black and white. The head sat there and a stunned silence fell over their crowd. Then they began screaming and wondering what they should do about this. Finally, a group of boys came out of their stands and gathered up the head. They brought it to our side of the gym and deposited it on our sideline. Laurel (and those of you who know him know just how scary this is) leaped from our stands and grabbed the head in one hand and sprinted across the court – winding up to throw it into their crowd. That is when the adults tackled him. He was respectful enough to cooperate once he was apprehended.

He was removed from the game. We were all banned from any further games and we completed several hours of campus beautification as punishment for our crime. It was worth it. I have seen some of our principals later in life and asked them about this prank. Each remembers it with fondness and only punished us to show that they could not approve – though they admitted that they did.